Brooklyn-via-DC art-pop trio Boon are a welcome respite at a time when many of us can use a good escape. Their album, There's No Saving This House, is a drift into another dimension, a gorgeous and scenic record bound by no genre constraints and full of enchantment. It's an album about "acceptance, confusion, self doubt and the way these states can cycle," but it feels at ease, comfortable in it's own skin and free of tension. Boon take a meditative approach to the issues that surround them, painting with broad strokes of color and sonic texturing. From the opening moments of "Click Beach" and it's melange of sounds to the slow ethereal pulse of "Glow Worms," and its backward manipulation, Boon offer an album that's both rich in complexity and easily digestible.

There's No Saving This House is built on grand gestures. It's avant-pop ("Ghosty") that balances epic psych exploration ("Shredding") with atmospheric wonder ("House"), reveling in its own majestic confusion, taking its time to develop and evolve. "Hunger" is a prime example of Boon at its most direct with pounding drums, layered guitars, and Brendan Principato's vocals soaring from his chest with the power of an entire chorus. The upward trajectory grows and grows, stampeding over chimes and soothing croons until peeling back for a serene finale. Things aren't always dreamy though; songs like "Half Pretending" brood to a near gothic crawl while and "You Thought You Jumped" veers into chamber pop experimentation and tape manipulated madness. Boon devolve and evolve before your ears, presenting an unpredictable journey that demands to be experienced in full.